


ten years wasted (but maybe not)

by volke (shuukei)



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuukei/pseuds/volke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re the Fireman, Volke?”</p><p>“You’re Greil, the mercenary.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	ten years wasted (but maybe not)

**Author's Note:**

> I got the okay from the organizer of the Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance Anthology that it's okay to post our works so! Here's my contribution about Volke before and during Path of Radiance.

They had met over ten years ago.

Volke’s information network was large enough to know who the man was just by first glance - Gawain, one of the former Four Riders of Daein, now known as Greil. Frowning under his mask, he narrowed his eyes when the man approached him.

He had been called to this inn by the barkeeper - someone had asked for a Fireman. And now, sitting here with his hands idly playing with a dagger was probably the last place he wanted to be. Volke may have been powerful and skilled - he may have been one of the greatest assassins of the century, but that meant nothing to a man that could easily defeat him with one solid maneuver. Regardless of the circumstances, he refused to get frightened over some possibilities. He didn’t make his way here - get his own _epithet_ \- for nothing. He won’t be so weak as to ruin his own reputation.

He stood up, garnet eyes narrowed and steely, a reminder of the dark red blade as he slid it into its sheath. Raising his head slightly, he regarded the older, taller man, before gesturing for him to sit down. He never let anyone touch him, always cautious about himself and where he was. It was a remnant of his past, one that he could never shake off.

“You’re the Fireman, Volke?” the other man asked, and he nodded again, sitting back down where he was before.

“You’re Greil, the mercenary.” _And Gawain of the Four Riders_ , went unsaid. Volke can’t imagine why someone that powerful would need him, but he’s done some pretty useless things before, so he supposed it wasn’t all that strange. Even Begnion hired him at some point - and he had to admit how ironic it was. They didn’t recognize him - though, it _has_ been more than few years since he’s been there. He wouldn’t expect them to.

Greil glanced from side to side, and turned to face back at him. “I have a job for you. How much will it cost?”

Volke leaned backwards a little, seemingly putting himself in a relaxed state, though his left hand rested on top of one of his hidden daggers. “Depends on the job,” he replied in a neutral tone, silently telling the other man to go on.

“I need you to look into something. It’s a bronze medallion, gone blue from age,” Greil explained in a quiet whisper, and Volke narrowed his eyes. But the other man continued, and Volke paused in what he was going to say. “If a man whose spirit is unbalanced touches it, they will lose their mind.”

Frowning, Volke connected the dots in his mind. “You want me to research that. There’s another part of this, isn’t there.” A part that maybe he didn’t want to know.

Greil nodded, looking grim. “I want you to kill me if I ever go berserk again.” The note rang in the air for a moment, and the silence ran still.

But - there was no way he could ever accept something like that. Someone like him couldn’t defeat a man like Greil, much less kill him. Volke’s lips set into a thin line, hidden by his mask as he considered the proposition. Greil - regardless of his situation - is immensely stronger than him by any and all means. No matter how mindless he becomes, there was no legitimate way he’d be able to defeat Greil by himself.

So - there was, really, only one way to truly respond.

Narrowing his eyes, Volke gazed at the larger man with burning eyes. “I can’t accept this job. Under my contract terms, I don’t accept anything that endangers my life.” It’s something well known from him - he can handle a lot of jobs, but he _never_ lets himself get mortally injured.

Greil shook his head, holding out his dominant hand. Volke’s eyes instantly shifted to the bright, raw slash on the palm. His eyes immediately cut up to lock with the other, and he stared intently for a moment, silently appraising the situation.

“Not anymore. I cut the tendons. Now I can’t use a sword ever again.” Greil’s eyes dug into him, and the assassin raised his head just the slightest. “Will you take this job now?”

Volke’s lips drew into a thin line - if Greil couldn’t wield a sword, then they were definitely on more even grounds. He’d have to fight with an axe - and he could _definitely_ avoid that. An axe stands no chance against his daggers - even if it was Gawain of the Four Riders. Frowning, he let out an almost silent noise of dissent, before he relented.

“... Fine.”

As he was researching, he began to find more and more of this medallion. That it was once held by a heron by the name of Lehran - and that a so called ‘dark god’ was sealed inside. He learned of the world’s balance in order and chaos - and of more topics than he probably ever needed to.

He dropped a few letters off for Greil every so often - but those were few and between as he scoured the continent for even more information. It was no longer a job - though, the contracts he had to deny because of it surely made his mouth scowl - and now he was actively invested in it.

In the end, he figured that the men that came after Greil actually came for the medallion - and he’s not quite sure why they would have wanted something like that. He may be a hard, cold-hearted assassin, but even he couldn’t fathom what men wanted with that. If they wanted to release the dark god - that could spell chaos and destruction for the entire continent. Simply thinking of that made him shudder.

He’s worked for a lot of shady people in the past - but for once, he’s glad he’s working for someone that’s not anywhere near as senile or evil. Greil seems like a sickeningly noble person, which is irritating considering he did come from Daein - though, he’s not one to be that prejudiced. Most of the time.

By the time that he compiled all his research - ten years had passed since the original contract. Ten years he spent working on the same job - wasting time that he could be using to further expand his reputation, time that he could be using to gain money. Regardless, it’s a law he made and a law he follows - he never takes more than one job at a time. So, in a way, he really caged himself in.

But - he’s finally finished.

Using his wide network of information, he follows after the Greil Mercenaries, awaiting the moment where he could catch up to them. He enters the dungeon where they were last seen and - lo and behold, he finds a boy with a clear resemblance to Greil - but not who he needs.

Short and to the point - “I have business with Sir Greil. Where is he?” He feels oddly out of place without his mask, but it’s fine as it is. It’s only a job - and it’ll only last for a short time more. After Ike can scrounge up the money he wants, and Volke tells him the truth - he’s gone.

A boy - a Branded, the fact makes him want to scowl, but he schools his expression before it shows - scowls and dismisses him, but he waves it off and redirects his gaze to the boy - Ike.

“I’ll speak with Sir Greil, and Sir Greil alone. Now take me to him,” he responds flatly, crossing his arms and leaning backwards slightly. It makes him sound like a petulant brat - but it’s due to the confidentiality terms of his contract. He doesn’t give unnecessary things away.

A woman - with long red hair and armor, likely an axe knight - approaches next. “What you ask is impossible,” she starts, “Commander Greil is dead.”

A frown rises on his face, and he brings his hand to stroke at his chin in thought. “Well. That is a problem.” He never expected that Greil would die before their contract was done - so the information does come in complete surprise to him. Regardless, his face doesn’t change much - he’s been at this business for far too long to truly give anything away.

The woman - Goddess, he’s going to have to ask for their names at some point, no matter how much verbal interaction makes him want to cringe - asks him a question, one very valid. “Just who are you, anyway?”

Well - he was waiting for that. Sighing, he stands up straight. “Call me Volke. Sir Greil hired me. I’m in … _intelligence._ ” A nice way of saying that he’s a spy and a thief.

“My father hired you?” The boy - that’s definitely Ike - asks him in return. He hates having to interact with people - he avoids it at all costs, but this situation is making it very hard for him to even try to do so.

“You’re Sir Greil’s son, correct?” He waits for a nod, and then he continues, “You’ll do. Sir Greil hired me to investigate something. You pay my price, and I’ll give you my report. Deal?” He doesn’t really wait for a response - he knows they’ll accept regardless.

Ike frowns, but he doesn’t refuse. “How much?”

 _This_ is the question he’s really been awaiting. The ever-present price. “Fifty thousand,” he replies - and it’s a steep sum, sure, but the information he’s guarding is important. He needs proof that Ike is responsible and mature enough to hear it. Management is going to be the only way.

Instantly, he hears murmuring about the price - but he keeps his eyes on Ike as the boy reluctantly accepts the terms, because of his trust for his father. He’s not fond of waiting around and staying with the company - but the branded boy offers him a part-time job opening locks, so he’s not one to refuse. He doesn’t care as long as he gets paid in the end.

After that, though, he avoids most of the company - even if he is technically using one of his personas, he’d rather not interact more than he needs to. He doesn’t want to get attached to someone, and make anything harder - he’d rather just avoid emotional connections entirely. It made the job of being an assassin much easier - though it’s not like anyone in the army actually knew about _that_.

As soon as they chase away the crows - a species of laguz that he can, unfortunately, relate to, with their poor social standing and lack of funds. He’s seen the Raven King Naesala before, though they have never conversed, and he’d likely feel much better if they never did. Something about the man seems … off, after all.

Regardless - he doesn’t stick around when they inspect the building, so when he gets called by Ike - he is surprised, but he keeps face and simply raises an eyebrow.

It’s a long story for a long time, and he starts it rather plainly. If there’s a hint of bitterness at the amount of time he’s spent - wasted? - on this job, it’s hard to place. Regardless, he tells the tale dutifully, says the information he knows, and very much is ready to go on his way - but, he does have to admit that he _is_ curious about the ending of this war, and the things it may bring, so he puts out an offer that is almost unheard of. He never takes jobs so close to each other - but it seems like this is inevitable.

_“Do you want to hire me? In the event that you go berserk one day?”_

An excuse to hang around for longer - to see just how they’re going to deal with the Mad King. He may have an extensive information network, but nothing beats being able to see the aftermath as a firsthand witness. Aside from that, he does have expectations from Ike that he may or may not would like to see fulfilled.

Ike does hire him - and it relieves him to actually be able to put on his assassin garb again. The persona he most commonly uses is easy to get into - but like all of them, it’s tiring after a long job. Having his face covered - wearing his darker clothing makes him feel much safer. It allows him to hide a few more weapons, after all. It’s better suited to his fighting style - to who he is as a person.

Somewhere along the road, he _does_ meet up with Bastian again - if seeing the blond mage from a few feet away and pointedly avoiding him for the rest of the journey was meeting up. It’s not that he disliked Bastian - rather, he’s timely with payments and reasonable, but the way he converses and speaks is just so _tiring_. Volke has no time to decipher his words.

Geoffrey and Lucia is even _less_ of a surprise - the former is rather agreeable, but his sister was a different matter altogether. She was much too smart - if Volke stayed near for her too long, he’d likely be thrust into a conversation he’d rather not be apart of.

So, he continues to avoid them during rest times, and if their eyes lock during battle - well, that’s another thing.

When it comes to the final battle - he’s almost disappointed that they don’t pick King Tibarn, and that he’s stuck on a battlefield with King Naesala - but his job is almost done, and he feels his fingers itch with the coming of a fight. His instincts are on edge - like always when he knows that a large bloodshed is coming, and he can’t stop himself from wanting to grip onto his daggers.

He keeps close to Bastian as they fight - after all, years of working together has made their battle fluid and clean, and slowly they work their way up to the top - the throne, where Ashnard awaits.

Volke respectfully declines from wanting to fight - not only because he knows his limitations and he can’t hold a candle to a mad Ashnard - but he knows what that mount is, and it’s no normal wyvern. He lets the others deal with him, watches from the shadows as Ike strikes him down, and averts his eyes as Ena comes rushing forward. He knows what that is - what happened to the poor dragon laguz, and he’d rather avoid his eyes from it.

Crimea is saved - and his contract, the one he spent ten long years on, is finally over.

Perhaps there were some regrets - but the aftermath wasn’t as bad as he figured it be, and he lets it go. After all, when Bastian comes up to him after the liberation of Crimea, with the offer of a contract on his tongue and his words blessedly simple, Volke thinks that these next few years are going to be very _hard_ and _tedious_.

But, he’s quite used to that now.


End file.
